


Bad Idea

by rockethop



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff and Smut, High Heels, Oral Sex, Smug Ben Wyatt, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25565176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockethop/pseuds/rockethop
Summary: Ben reacts to Leslie's haircut during the one month time jump during 6x01, "London: Parts 1 & 2". She thinks he's being too nice.
Relationships: Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Ro (mouseratstan) for beta reading for me!

She cuts her hair.

She and Ben get into a stupid fight over how to handle the recall situation and she cuts her hair the next day.

At first, the concept sounds crazy. It’s just another bad, impulsive urge that’s elbowed its way into her mind while she was fuming. She shouldn’t act on it. Then crazy turns to petty. And petty turns to impatient. And impatient turns into staring at her reflection in the salon mirror. She can feel the cold metal of the scissors slinking across her neck as the hairdresser asks her how high she wants to go and Leslie watches the blades climb higher and higher in her hair until she tells the woman to stop just below her jawline. A shaky exhale and a sickening snip later, and there’s no going back.

Leslie sighs and pushes the key into their locked front door.

_ Okay okay okay okay okay okay okay okay. Let’s just get this over with.  _

He’s not mad when he sees her. Surprised, maybe, but not upset.

“You cut your hair,” he says matter-of-factly. “It looks nice.”

Her eyes narrow in on him, surveying his face for any trace of malice or dishonesty. There’s a pang of inward disappointment that rears its stubborn, ugly head and refuses to go away. She really thought there was going to be a bigger blow up than this. She tosses her purse and blazer to the kitchen counter.

“You can stop lying now,” she says icily, her short nails digging into her hip.

“I’m not lying?” Ben says, confused.

“You don’t have to pretend you like it.”

He rises from the bar stool that he’s sitting on to approach her. Brows furrowed, he reaches out and runs his hand down the length of her arm.

“Les?”

She jerks away. She tosses what remains of her hair as best as possible and points her chin upwards with determination. “You wanted to take my defense initiative away from me, something that I care about. Something that’s important to me.”

“Leslie, your defense initiative has  _ forty phases.”  _

“You think that you have all this control over everything, but you  _ don’t.  _ You don’t have control over me, you don’t have control over my appearance, and you sure as hell don’t have control over how I respond to this recall effort.” She huffs.

“This is about  _ control?”  _ Ben laughs incredulously. “Leslie, I just said you look nice. What is going on with you?”

“Give it up, Ben!! It’s me! I win! You lose! I cut it off!”

“You got a haircut to make me mad because I said your defense initiative only needed one phase?”

Okay, when you put it that way,  _ yeah, _ it does sound kind of outlandish. He pulls her poster board from the couch behind him.

“The first one you put down was ‘believe in yourself’. That’s all that I meant.”

“Oh my god,” Leslie wails. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“What?” Ben asks frantically.

“Oh my god, I thought you were mad at me so I cut my hair because I wanted to make you mad.”

“What?” He says again.

She covers her face in an attempt to hide the mortification. “You always pull my hair in bed and I thought that you were trying to take something away from me so I tried to take something away from you, but instead you’re being really supportive and now I have a haircut that I don’t even really  _ like!”  _

She can hear him try to mask his laughter by clearing his throat.

“Les,” he says again. “Leslie, look at me.” He manages to pry her hands away and he gathers them in his. “I really like it. Truly. Okay?”

She nods her head and takes a calming breath. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He pulls her into an embrace before running his hands up her arms, past her shoulders, and along her neck, stopping finally to push his fingers into her hair and grab a handful of the strands at her nape. “Now take your clothes off and get in the bedroom. Looks like you need a reminder of who’s in control. It’s not you, Leslie. It’s  _ me. _ ” 

She smirks before peeling her blouse off and tossing it at him. She sets off towards the bedroom, kicking her heels off in the hallway so that they lay separately from each other and pushes down her skirt outside of their open bedroom door. She’s just managed to cross into the threshold of the room when she hears the door click shut behind her, feels her husband press himself against her back, and feels him press the backs of her shoes into her lower belly.

“Put these back on,” he growls.

Leslie hums - a mixture between a giggle and a moan - and takes the previously discarded heels from him then pushes her hips back into his as she bends over to slip on the first shoe followed by the other, her lack of stability causing her ass to grind against his groin. When she’s upright again she stands ever so slightly taller, Ben pulling her flush to him and drawing small circles against her belly.

“Better?” She purrs.

She gasps and shudders when he pushes his fingers against her through her underwear as if he’s making to push her underwear inside of her in the process. He shakes his head in disapproval then spins her around so that they’re chest to chest.

“You’re not wet enough. That’s a shame. I’ll change that, though.” He grunts and slams his hips against hers. “Do you want to be on your knees when you suck me? Yes or no?”

“No,” She says defiantly while reaching for her breast. Ben smacks her hand away.

“I didn’t give you permission to do that yet.”

It happens before she can process it. He pulls her hips against his once again and twirls them so that their positions have switched, her back pressed against the door with a gentle rattle of the hinges. He presses a slow, sweet kiss to her lips before getting down on his knees, yanking Leslie’s panties down and nudging her ankles for her to step out of the fabric. He snakes one of his arms under her right leg and guides it over his shoulder before pressing his lips to the inside of her thigh. She flinches.

“When did you last shave?” She asks when his skin brushes against her.

“I skipped it this morning.”

“You feel like sandpaper.”

“Shh,” he instructs her as his lips climb higher and higher towards their destination, stopping right before they make contact with her opening.

She wiggles her hips in an attempt to bring the friction back and inadvertently grinds her clit against the skin above his upper lip.

“Fuck,” she cries in a breathy whisper. Ben’s hands grab her hips and he sinks his fingers into her flesh.

“Say it again. Louder, this time,” he demands and returns his mouth to her, teasing her slowly with his tongue until she curses again with more force this time. “Good job,” he praises and reinforces her obedience by introducing two of his fingers. “You have no idea how hard it gets me hearing those harsh words coming from your pretty lips.”

She sighs when he gently nips at her. “I think I have a pretty  _ fucking  _ good idea, Ben.”

His groin twitches and his fingers increase in their pace, rubbing circles against her front wall as his tongue circles her furiously. She gasps, caught off guard in the sudden increase in intensity, and digs her heel into his back in an attempt to stay upright.

“More, honey, more, please.  _ Please.  _ Pleasepleasepleaseplease. Please don’t stop. Moremoremoremoremore. Oh god, oh my god, oh my - FUCK.”

Her body shudders as she comes against his face, and she really hates that she can feel the smug bastard smirking between her legs, but her walls just clenched around his fingers with more intensity than they have in a while and he knows it. He withdraws his fingers and takes his index into his mouth, removes it, and positions his middle finger so that he’s flipping her off while sucking her taste off of himself.

“Gorgeous, Leslie.” He praises and swipes his thumb over one of her flushed cheeks. “That was fucking beautiful. Like poetry in motion.” She whimpers and tilts her swollen lips up to his face. “No, I have a better idea for those.”

He places her hands on his belt and she begins to unfasten it but pauses once she has her hand on his zipper. He nudges himself in her hands as politely as possible given his current state of arousal but when he raises his eyes he sees her lips waiting expectantly. He groans.

“Baby, please,” Leslie whines.

This wins her what she’s been looking for - Ben lowers his lips to hers tenderly and lingers for a moment before pulling away. Her eyes flutter open lazily, as if his kiss was like waking up from a pleasant dream, as if she’s coming out of a trance. The affection threatens to chip at his resolve, threatens to shake up the rest of his plans, but he nudges her shoulder and she drops to her bare knees with an unamused glare.

“I said I didn’t want to be down here like this,” she says while pulling him free from his pants. He steps out of them and they fall to the floor with a thud.

“Yeah, well, you’re not in charge, are you?” He says low and haughty before flinching. Leslie had just taken him into her mouth and used far more teeth than he was accustomed to.

“Big talk coming from a guy in such a vulnerable position,” she replies before lowering herself down his length. Her cheeks hollow as she makes her way back up. She swirls her tongue around his head, lets her breath gently escape through her parted lips, and presses a kiss to him. “Tell me the story again.”

“I was working for the state government as an auditor. I came to Pawnee to look at each department’s budgets. I looked at the numbers before even stepping foot in City Hall and I had already decided who I was firing but I figured I’d -  _ god, Leslie, fuck  _ \- let you try to convince me otherwise.”

“An ego trip for Mr. State Auditor Benjamin Wyatt,” she says. “You love when women plead with you, don’t you?” Leslie bats her eyelashes and takes him into her mouth again.

“No, just when you do.” His head rolls back, eyes clenched, and biting on his lower lip. He gathers what remains of his composure and continues. “But you were so goddamn  _ mouthy.” _

Leslie giggles sinfully around him and the reverberation travels up from her throat to his groin and tingles through his lower spine. He collects her jaw in his palm and gives her a gentle squeeze before pulling away from her. She’s pulled to her feet, a kiss placed against her temple, and they’re spinning again so Ben’s once again pressed against the door before he drags them both to the floor with Leslie straddling one of his legs. He presses his mouth to her neck and darts his tongue across her salty skin before sucking, intent on branding her.

“Ben,” she protests weakly but tilts her head so that he has better access. “Ben. I just cut my hair, there’s no way that I can hide this.”

And she’s not wrong. He’s chosen a spot just below where her hair now falls - far too high for any of her blouses to hide the blemish. She also has absolutely no confidence in her concealer’s ability to live up to its name. Leslie whines and grinds herself against Ben’s upper thigh in an attempt to divert his attention.

This seems to have her desired effect as Ben leans back against the door wordlessly.

“What?” Leslie teases before unhooking her bra and tossing it aside. He stares at her silently, reveling in her confidence and her assuredness and his claimed territory when she scoffs. “Stop that. You’re being too nice with me.”

He reaches out and gives a nipple a harsh twist between his thumb and index finger, causing her to shriek. He smiles smugly. “Better?”

She rolls her eyes and pouts. “Kiss it better.”

“My pleasure.”

“Who’s pleasure, now?” Leslie titters and sighs when his mouth closes over her.

She shifts her weight so that she’s positioned over his length and lowers herself onto him as the room fills with moans. She can feel him shaking beneath her, still too close to the edge as the result of her being on her knees just moments earlier, and she can tell that this isn’t going to last long.

She rocks her hips, lifts and lowers and repeats until the familiar tingling is announcing its arrival in her belly by means of her ragged breath and soft cries. Ben’s hand reaches for the back of her neck and pulls her lips to him, capturing her mouth in a series of soft kisses while his hand dances between her legs to send her over the edge with her forehead pressed to his shoulder.

She’s not sure exactly when he joins her on account of her eyes being clenched shut but she can feel his chest heaving below her and the pulse point in his neck pounding against her ear. She raises her head and giggles - her husband’s disheveled hair was flying in all directions with strands sticking to his sweaty forehead. She lowers her own to his and waits for his eyes to reopen before they both succumb to their fits of laughter.

“What?” She finally asks. She grabs the elevated heels of her shoes, removes them, and throws them against the wall.

“God, you really liked that.” He laughs and pushes a strand of wet hair from her face. “The whole ‘nice’ thing. I don’t know why, but you’re into it. It’s not my fault.”

“I am not ‘into it’.” She mocks.

He glances down at his shirt. They’d been so preoccupied that it’d never been discarded with the rest of their clothing. The bottom hemline was discolored, slightly darker and damper than the surrounding fabric. Ben pinches the shirt in between his fingers and stretches it for her to see.

“Leslie, that’s all you.” He grins.

“No,” She shakes her head in denial.

“Babe,” Ben starts but is interrupted by his own laughter. “This whole time you’ve been making me be rough with you and-”

“Don’t!” She shrieks.

“Being  _ nice  _ is what does it for you.”

“Ben!” She groans and rolls away from him.

“Wait, sorry, Les. Leslie!” He jumps to his feet and grabs her hand, giving her a serious look. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” She says sternly.

“Yes, yes. I mean it. But I do have an actual question for you.”

Leslie raises an eyebrow.

“What’s our deductible for our home insurance? You know, just in case the basement floods the next time you’re having a bad day and I give you some positive affirmations.”

“BEN!” She shoves him and he stumbles back with a cackle. “I take back what I said earlier, you’re an ass.”

“I’m nothing if not consistent,” he replies and they set off towards the shower.


End file.
